To Be With You
by ShannonSto
Summary: GS--Post-Butterflied. My attempt to resolve things. Complete.
1. Default Chapter

To Be With You

**A/N:**  Here's my lame attempt to sort out all of the issues facing our favorite geeks.  It's set post-Butterflied.  I've realized only after the fact the similarity between the case file presented here and that of Sex, Lies and Larvae.  

**Spoilers:**  Bits and pieces from the first three seasons, as well as Eleven Angry Jurors and Butterflied.

**Disclaimer:**  Ah, what would life be without disclaimers?  I own nothing. Nada. Zilch. All of the characters I adore belong to someone else. sigh

*^*^*^*^*^*

**"Something wicked this way comes."**

**                                                                       ~William Shakespeare, _Macbeth~_**

The setting sun behind the mountains was a splendid sight.  Reds, oranges and blues blended and clashed simultaneously.  The temperature was perfect, a breezy seventy-two degrees.  It was easy to see why the mountainous pass was so popular with hikers and campers.  To the three crime scene investigators, however, it was anything but idyllic.

The corpse lay in a ravine about fifteen feet below the trail.  Time, insects and environment had already taken their toll.  She was a young woman, probably once beautiful, with long blonde hair and red silk pajamas.

"Melanie Morrison, age twenty-two," Jim Brass grimly informed.  "Boyfriend reported her missing last Tuesday."

Grissom, kneeling by the body, said nothing.  His hands worked carefully, using forceps to extract insects and larval casings from the surface of the corpse and placing them securely in specimen cups.

"Guys?" Sara called out from a short distance away.  "I got shoe prints."

"Could be from the hikers that found her," Brass suggested.

Catherine busily snapped photographs of the body and the immediate vicinity.  She moved to shoot the shoeprints Sara had found.  "Oh, good, here comes David."

"Hey, Sara," David Phillips shyly greeted.

"Hey, David," Sara grinned back.

"David?" Grissom intervened.  "Body's over here."  The CSIs continued to process the scene as the body was prepped, bagged and removed.

*^*^*^*^*^*

"It seems your victim led a very violent existence," Albert Robbins reported when he saw Sara and Grissom enter the autopsy.  He motioned for them to come closer.  "Cause of death is difficult to pinpoint due to the repeated injuries and fractures," he pointed to the x-rays in the view box.  "You can see the multiple facial fractures.  Some are fresh; some are healed.  She has rib fractures and organ trauma as well.  We're looking at a long term pattern of abuse, and this time he went too far."

"He went too far the first time," Sara seethed.

"Perhaps we should talk to her loving boyfriend," Grissom's voiced revealed his concern as he glanced at Sara.

While Grissom and Sara attended the autopsy, Catherine searched the home Melanie Morrison had shared with her boyfriend, Anthony McCalmant.  To the untrained eye, it was an average home; clean, comfortable, warmly decorated.  Yet to a CSI, it was a hotbed of evidence.  Catherine never ceased to be amazed by the wonders of Luminol and an ALS.

She discovered covert blood on the bedroom wall and floor, as well as a droplet trail leading into the bathroom.  In the bathroom, the sink and soap dispenser positively glowed for her.  _Bastard_, she raged. _He's lucky he's not here right now._

*^*^*^*^*^*

Anthony McCalmant wore an expression of arrogance as he sat in the interrogation room across the table from Catherine and Grissom.  Sara stayed close to the door with her arms folded protectively across her chest and alternating between leaning against the wall and pacing.

"I haven't seen Mel since Monday," the suspect recounted.  "She didn't come home after work.  We didn't ride together like we usually do because I had some errands to run after work.  When she still hadn't made it home Tuesday afternoon, I called the cops."

"You and Melanie worked together?" Catherine led the questioning.

"Yeah, at the Hubbard Inn.  She was a waitress.  I work in the kitchen."

"How long did you know her?"

"About two years," McCalmant shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "We've been living together since August."

"Any problems in the relationship?" Catherine pressed. "Did she give you any indication she may not be happy with the situation?"

"No…well, we had fights, but everyone does."

"Only your fights were physical," Grissom interjected.

"What? No."

Grissom held up the victim's x-rays. "Melanie suffered repeated fractures."

Sara stopped pacing and leaned on the table, her face only twelve inched from Anthony McCalmant's, "We know you beat her.  You beat her and you killed her."  Grissom lightly grasped her forearm, causing her to pull away and step back.

Catherine laid out the case for the suspect, "You've got a dead girlfriend, a history of domestic violence, and blood all over your house.  You say she never came home from work, but she was found in her jammies.  You'd better find a good attorney, Mr. McCalmant."

He set his jaw defiantly, "Are we done here?"

"Yeah.  You can go."  McCalmant hastily exited.

"They worked together," Catherine observed.  "Those things almost never work out."

"Working together had nothing to do with it, Catherine," Sara's response was perhaps a bit too quick.  "He'd be an abusive ass no matter how they met."

Grissom leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

"Earth to Grissom," Catherine waved a hand in front of his face.

"I'm just remembering the words of Jonathan Swift: 'I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them unashamed.'"

*^*^*^*^*^*

Day shift personnel swarmed the halls, the sounds of morning greetings buzzing in the air.  Grissom wound his way along the corridor, peeking into each room he passed.  Finally, he found her in the layout room.  She was absorbed in her work as she studied Melanie Morrison's pajamas.

"Sara," he spoke softly, hoping to avoid startling her.  "Shift's over.  It's time to go home."

"I'm almost finished," she protested, not looking up.

"Sara," he said again, this time trying to sound more authoritative.  " Go home."

"I clocked out," she shrugged.  "It's not overtime."

"It's not the overtime that worries me."

Sara quietly continued looking at the clothing.  If she ignored him, maybe he would get the hint and not press the issue.  _Damn him! Why does he also choose such inopportune times to act as if he gives a damn about me?_

"Sara?" he kept his voice gentle as he moved to stand beside her.  "What is it about these cases that gets to you so much?"

"Grissom," she finally turned to him, her voice increasing in intensity with each word, "A young woman was brutally beaten and had her security, her dignity, her very life taken from her and you want to know what's bothering me?"

Gil was momentarily taken aback by her ferocity.  "I think it's more than that."

She breathed a deep sigh, "We all have our dragons to slay."

"Maybe it would help to talk about it…"

"Yes, I should definitely tell you my deepest darkest secrets, because you're certainly so forthcoming about your own."  She stuffed the pajamas back into the evidence bag and stormed out of the room before he could see the tears forming.

  TBC                                                                                  


	2. two

**"Yet each man kills the thing he loves…" **

**                                                                         ~Oscar Wilde~**

Gil looked closely at the insects tacked to the board.  The establishment of the time of death by linear regression analysis was an inexact science, and the entomologist wanted to be certain it was correct.

"Doc Robbins says four to five days," Sara extended the olive branch from the doorway.  "What do your bugs say?"

"The bugs would have to concur," Grissom smiled slightly as he looked over at her.  "It's safe to say she's been dead since Tuesday."

Sara nodded, "He killed her Monday night or Tuesday morning."

"Sara," Grissom searched for the right words.  "As of yet, we can only prove that she was battered in the past and killed in her home.  We can't prove conclusively that Anthony McCalmant is the person who murdered her."

"You can't think he's innocent."

"No, believe he's probably guilty.  But what I believe doesn't matter.  What matters is what a jury will believe beyond a reasonable doubt."

"So we'll keep looking," Sara responded with determination.

Grissom paused for a moment, trying to convince himself that the time was right to broach the subject.  An odd feeling of dread settled over him.  "Sara, I should tell you that I recommended Nick for the promotion."  _There, it's out_, he exhaled.

"What a surprise," Sara said sarcastically.

"You don't think I was objective?"

"I know you weren't.  But prove me wrong; tell me in what way Nick is a better CSI than I am."

Gil stared blankly at her.

"You can't, can you?  You let your personal issues with me cloud your judgment.  And I'll bet you're still not willing to talk about 'this'" she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "Much less resolve it."

When Grissom remained silent, she continued, "Don't screw with my career, Grissom.  It's all I have left."  There was a pained but unmistakable warning in her tone.

Grissom looked at the floor, struggling to put his thoughts into words.  When at last he was able to speak, he looked up at the empty doorway.  She was gone.

*^*^*^*^*^*

**"For all the sad words of tongue or pen,**

**The saddest are these—it might have been"**

**                                                                     ~John Greenleaf Whittier~**

By the fourth ring, Sara managed to stagger out of bed and grab the telephone.  "Hello?"

"Sara, it's me," Gil's voice sounded tentative through the line.  "It's obvious that we need to talk about some things.  Can you meet me for dinner before work?"

Sara bit her lip, "If the conversation goes the way I suspect it will, I won't have much of an appetite."

"How about coffee, then?"

"Grissom, I…okay, where and when?"

"The diner near the lab, nine o'clock."

"Okay," she hung up the receiver.

Sara pulled into the diner's parking lot, put the car into park and turned off the engine.  The tension in her shoulders and neck was nearly paralytic.  She found herself filled with dread.  _I wanted him to talk to me, and now he wants to.  So why do I feel like I'm going to my execution?_

She spotted Grissom in a booth in the corner of the nearly empty diner, the strategic location affording them a measure of privacy.  She noticed his hand trembling around his coffee cup as she sat down across from him.

"I ordered your coffee," he pointer shakily toward the steaming cup in front of her.  "With cream and sugar."

"Thanks."

"I'm not sure where to start," Grissom admitted.

"I'll start," Sara took the initiative.  "I heard you."

"Excuse me?"

"I heard you.  When that nurse who looked like me was killed and you were interviewing the doctor.  I was in the observation room."

Confusion turned to fear as Gil's brain registered her words, "You heard me."

"Maybe I should have felt relieved, you know, because when you rejected my dinner invitation, I started to wonder if you ever cared at all or if I was the biggest fool on the planet.  Maybe I'd misread all the things you'd said and done over the last three years."  The more Sara spoke, the easier it became for her to release the long-suppressed emotion.  "Then I heard what you said, and I knew I didn't imagine anything.  You do care.  But I didn't feel relieved.  If anything, I feel more depressed and conflicted than ever…because you're still not willing to take the chance."

Grissom's expression was unreadable.  Sara continued, "It's kind of a hollow victory. 'Hey look at that, he does want you!'  But so what?  I still go home alone every day.  I still look at my answering machine and see 'No messages'."  

"Yes," Gil confessed.  "I do have feelings for you.  But the situation is very complicated…what I feel is very strong, very intense.  It's terrifying.  It could destroy me."

"Destroy you?"

"I'm not a young man, Sara.  I don't have much to offer a beautiful young woman.  I can't give you would you need," a mask of resigned sadness descended over his face.  "You'd want more—you'd need more.  And when you left, it would be the end of me."

"I'd never leave."

"But that's just it.  You already did."

"What? I don't know—" his words resounded in her head:  _She showed you a wonderful life, didn't she?  But then she took it away and gave it to somebody else.  And you were lost_.  "If you mean Hank, you're totally wrong about that."

Grissom winced at the mention of the paramedic's name, "Am I?"

"I never wanted him.  I was in love with _you_.  And I thought maybe you felt something for me, too.  But you never made a move.  Instead you kept telling me to find a diversion, get some outside interests.  So I gave up.  I was so lonely," her voice broke.  "I only went out with him to get over you.  It was a dismal failure."  She reached out and placed her hand over his, "I never left you.  I didn't know I _had_ you."

"When Gerrard dropped that on me, it shattered me into a million pieces."

"I'm sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.  If I had thought for a second that I had a chance with you…" Sara's voice trailed off as she shook her head regretfully.  "So what now?"

"I can't do it, Sara," he told her gently.

"Why not?"  She released his hand.

"I'm your supervisor.  It could cost us everything."

"Is that a deal-breaker?"

"Yes."

"You're afraid of screwing up our working relationship?"

"Yes."

"I don't see how it can get any more screwed up than it already is."

"Sara…"

"I understand."  Grissom could hear the anger and frustration in her voice.

"I don't think you do."  
  


"Oh, I understand all right," she sputtered through her tears.  "You've weighed the risks versus the benefits and decided I'm not worth the trouble."

"No, that's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know how to explain it when I don't understand it myself."

"So I'm six hundred miles from my family and friends, in love with a man who won't even try, and I have no hope of professional advancement because you can't treat me objectively?"

"Sara, I'm sorry…I…I just can't."

"Well I guess we've covered all the topics," she said, getting up from the table.  "There's nothing more to talk about."  As she walked away, she turned and offered him a sad smile, "It's a shame, you know?  We could have been really good together."

TBC


	3. three

**"The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvelously."**

**                                                                                ~Henry Kissinger~**

Gil sat behind his desk, the beginning of a migraine rearing its ugly head.  He briefly considered re-assigning himself to another case, but ultimately chose to continue working with Sara and Catherine.  The ringing of his cellular telephone jarred his already raw nerves.

The news from Jim Brass was positive—finally a potential break in the case.  Grissom found the women in the break room having lunch.  "Good news," he announced.  "They found Melanie Morrison's car."  The tilt of his head indicated that they should follow him.

The car had been located in the long- term parking lot at McCarran airport.  Prying open the trunk, the CSIs were pleased to find dried blood spread over much of the space. Fingerprints were successfully lifted from the steering wheel, gearshift lever and trunk release latch with the hopes that this evidence would provide them with the identity of the vehicle's last driver.

Catherine noted with curiosity the silence between Grissom and Sara.  They did not even look at one another.

As expected, the blood in the trunk was that of Melanie Morrison and the fingerprints those of Anthony McCalmant.  By the end of the shift, a warrant had been secured for his arrest.

*^*^*^*^*^*

The awkward silence between Sara and Gil continued over the following weeks.  He was careful to assign cases keeping her at a distance.  For this, she was grateful.  She had realized after that night in the diner that she simply could not tolerate the situation any longer.  If Grissom couldn't make the necessary changes, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

She sat in front of her computer at home, working on the seventh draft of her letter of resignation.  This one seemed artificially cheerful.  Select all, delete.  Now she began the eighth draft.  "Sincerely, Sara Sidle, CSI III."  There, it was done.  She printed the document, signed it, folded it and carefully tucked it into an envelope.  Tomorrow she would hand deliver it to Director Cavallo.

Leaving the lab would be very difficult.  It had been her entire world for more than three years.  Yet she was resolute, certain that her decision was the right one.  She hoped against hope that by resigning, she was effectively removing the final barrier to having a relationship with Grissom.  She would have to find another line of work to remain in the city, but she had prepared herself for that.  The dean of the university's Science Department had been very interested in hiring her for his research lab.  And if Grissom still shoes not to pursue a relationship with her, she would find employment as a CSI in another city.  Regardless, she could not go on working with him every day and not being with him, let alone allowing him to damage her career.  She wondering how pathetic it was to be grieving for something she never really had.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Robert Cavallo was on the telephone when Sara reached his office.  She stood patiently a polite distance from his desk.  He hung up the phone and flashed Sara a curious expression, "CSI Sidle, have a seat.  What can I do for you?"

Sara lowered herself into the plush chair across the desk from the lab director.  "I'm afraid I've got some bad news," she handed her envelope to him.  "For personal reasons, I have to resign my position here."

Cavallo appeared stunned, "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"No, Sir," Sara was confused by his reaction.

"Two in one day?" seeing Sara's puzzlement, he added, "Gil Grissom just resigned an hour ago."

Now it was Sara's turn to be stunned, "He did what?"

"He said he's going to teach at the university.  Assistant Dean of the Science Department.  Could've knocked me over with a feather."

"Um, could, uh," Sara stammered, slowly regaining her senses. "Could you hold onto this?  There's someone I really need to talk to."

"Please do.  You two work this out and get back to me."

*^*^*^*^*^*

**"Grow old with me! The best is yet to be."**

**                                                                          ~Robert Browning~**

Sara was so flustered as she knocked on Grissom's front door that she didn't even realize her knees were shaking.  No sounds could be heard from within the townhouse.  She knocked again.  Still no reply.  Finally accepting that he was not at home, she decided to go to her own apartment to regroup.

As is in a daze, she moved slowly along the sidewalk of her apartment complex.  There, sitting on the steps, was the subject of her thoughts.  She sat next to him on the stair.  

"I've been waiting for you," he said simply.

"Funny thing is, I was at your place looking for you."

"I've made a decision, Sara.  I quit my job today."

"I know.  Why would you do that?"

"To be with you," Gil spoke as if the answer was obvious.

"Wow."

"How could you know already?"

"Cavallo told me," she admitted. "When I handed him my resignation."

"You resigned?" Grissom felt a rush of concern.

Sara chuckled, "You haven't heard the best part."

"There's a best part?" Gil failed to see how she could find any humor in this situation.

"I was going to do research for the Science Department at UNLV."

Grissom, too, began to chuckle as he saw the irony.  "And I was going to be Assistant Dean of the Science Department as UNLV."

Sara nodded, "So if we both followed through, you'd still be my boss..."

"…And we'd be right back where we started."

The realization hit Sara like a blow to the gut, sobering her demeanor.  "We _are_ right back where we started," she said sadly.

"No, we're not."   There was an air of decisiveness to Grissom's manner.

"What's changed?"

"I have.  You said I couldn't take the risk because you're not worth it to me.  That's where you're wrong.  I'll take any risk for you, Sara.  I'm the one who's not worth it.  But if you're still willing to try, so am I."

"Is this really happening?"  _Surely this must be a dream_.

Gil smiled broadly, "Yes.  I want to get to know you better.  I want to know everything there is to know about Sara Sidle.  And I want you to know me," he paused.  "But don't expect it all at once.  This is very difficult for me.  It's hard to break forty-seven years of silence.  It'll have to be baby steps."

"I can handle baby steps as long as they're steps forward," Sara's cautious smile morphed into her trademarked gap-toothed grin.  "What about work?"

"I still don't have an answer for that one."

"How about this: we both stay on at the lab.  If it turns out to be too difficult to maintain a professional relationship and a personal relationship, _then_ we figure out which one of us goes to the university," Sara suggested.

Grissom nodded his head silently as the pair stood and continued up the stairs to Sara's apartment.  He snaked his arm around her waist.  He would regret many things throughout his life, but he would never regret the decision to open his heart to Sara Sidle.

The End.


End file.
